


suspect

by debilitas



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Rewrite, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debilitas/pseuds/debilitas
Summary: Crypto is used to being cornered. So used to it, in fact, that his mind will craft a wall behind him when a real one is absent.slight rewrite of chapter 7, wherein gibraltar is more convinced of crypto’s innocence
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Makoa Gibraltar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	suspect

**Author's Note:**

> for siri <3 thank u for supporting my work

Somewhere, in the fogged cloud that his mind has become, Makoa hears his name. Probably Oct, complaining about the reconstruction of his legs again. The prosthetics are a complex mess of wire and metal, weaved together in ways that could only make sense to their creator.

Flesh and bone make sense to Makoa. He’s mended countless wounds before, made splints from the most ridiculous of materials. Faced down mortal injuries that spill blood like tears from an eye, and none have left him as intimidated as a heap of metal. They imitate limbs, sure, but he feels no life in them, nor sounds of pain to guide him.

Everyone’s counting on him to fix them, and he’s starting to suffocate under the pressure.

At least, they were. Now, the unwavering tension of the room has been refocused to Crypto. He stands in the midst of them all with the posture of a man already convicted, eyes landing on nothing in particular. 

Hack was taken from him. Revenant crept inside and wore its skin, and all he could do was watch. Makoa knows him well enough to see it for the violation that it is. But Crypto has no time to heal, too busy forging his own defense.

His fellow legends take turns barraging him with questions, shouting over one another in their rush to interrogate. Though their faces are angry, their bodies betray them: they’re all terrified. So scared of what could be coming next that they just need someone to blame, if only to distract themselves from the unknown.

Crypto is easy to hate. No one else has any other way to frame him, no fond memories or moments of humanization. He keeps them all at arm’s length and then some, and it’s become the shovel that dug his grave.

Something strikes Makoa on the back of the head, freeing him from his daze. It’s Ajay, calling his name.

“Where’d ya go, Gibby?”

Before he can even try to answer, Oct interjects.

“Hey, hey, watch it! Che, he’s mutilating me!”

More synapses fire, waking themselves, and Makoa feels the cool metal held in his hand. Uncurls his fingers to find four parallel indentations in the silver. He hadn’t noticed how _hard_ he’d been gripping the limb until now.

“Sorry,” he says absently, shoving the part toward its owner, who takes it with an expression of dismay. “One sec.”

Makoa cuts an easy path through the small crowd. A few of them shrink back instinctively, dwarfed by his sheer size— but not everyone.

“He can’t be,” he hears Wattson murmur to no one specific. “He’s our friend.”

_He is_ , Makoa insists to himself, despite the evidence.

“We all know you did it,” Anita snaps, her usual tone sharpened to a point. She’s inching closer to Crypto with every word, far too close. “Just ‘fess up already.”

The way she’s staring him down is acutely Bangalore, but Makoa wonders if anyone else notices the arm she’s extended. It forms a divide between Crypto and the others, protecting them, like Anita always does.

Makoa takes a deep inhale, and pushes past it.

“Back up,” Crypto’s voice forces its way through grit teeth. Fists shoved deep in his pockets, they noticeably fidget as he attempts to control himself. Biting back a self preservation instinct that Makoa knows is far stronger than the man it belongs to.

The thing about Crypto that Makoa’s learned these past few months, besides how much pain he’s truly in, is that he’s used to being cornered. So used to it, in fact, that his mind will craft a wall behind him when a real one is absent.

He could back away from Bangalore or simply leave the room, but he doesn’t know it. Because all he can feel is walls closing in on all sides, made obvious by the fear held in his gaze.

“What’d you say?”

Makoa intervenes before it can escalate any further. Positions himself between her and Crypto, giving the sternest glance he can manage.

“Easy, sister. Don’t help nobody, losing our cool like this.”

“He’s _killing_ us, Gib,” Anita says. He can see in her face that she believes it. “Can’t you see that?”

“Only thing killing you is the arena,” Crypto retorts.

Crypto, smart as he is, must have never learned when to shut up.

Makoa manages to block Bangalore’s first blow, but isn’t so lucky the second time. In her defense, she wasn’t aiming for him. It doesn’t lessen the effect of icy wedges of pain shooting through his jaw.

It takes both Wraith and Witt to tear her free from the scene. Ajay rushes over soon after, gripping strong shoulders as she talks to her in a voice too low for Makoa to hear.

Makoa grunts when he pops his jaw back into place. Blinks the stars out of his eyes just in time to see Crypto disappear through the closest door, and follows close behind. 

“Don’t let him leave!” Bangalore calls to him, and he gives a wave of acknowledgement.

The hallway is dark, lit by failing fluorescents that hang low enough from the ceiling that he has to duck beneath them. He calls out for Crypto, who ignores him until he reaches the exit at the end of the hall.

Crypto holds the doorknob in a white knuckled grip, and Makoa shuffles to a stop a few feet away.

“I know you didn’t do it,” he pants, swallowing hard. 

Crypto doesn’t look at him. “How?”

Makoa doesn’t have a tangible excuse. His reasons only come from the context only he’s received: from hushed whispers and late night talks. From the longest conversations Crypto had with any legend, the way his gaze would linger on Makoa’s mouth for a second too long. 

That night when they stood chest to chest, eyes locked on each other, sharing the same air. The first night Makoa thought of a man that wasn’t Nikolas, feeling things in his heart he’d thought died. That night when they walked the razor thin line of friendship and something very different.

“You don’t know me,” Crypto says, punctuating it with the slam of the door behind him.

As Makoa follows, it’s Nik’s voice he hears in his head; _stubborn_. 

He’d used plenty of words to describe him, including some that might be downright insulting when translated from Creole, but stubborn was used most frequently. He wasn’t the first.

To his father, he was a dog with a bone. Once he sunk his teeth into an idea or a person, he refused to let go.

Makoa shoves the door open, emerging into the night’s chill. The air is thick with ozone, burning the inside of his throat and nose as he moves to catch up. Sees Crypto tug his coat tighter against the threat of the storm, shoes scraping pavement as he slows to a stop.

There’s a definitive crack in his voice when he speaks. “I didn’t do it.”

The wind picks up, Crypto’s dark hair flowing across his head like ocean waves. Eyes red from irritation, same shade as the flush across his cheeks, mouth carving a frown into his face. He wears his torment like a ball and chain, every accusation adding more weight.

“I know.”

“How?” Crypto’s expression is one of confusion, tone stern. “You will come to my defense, when they have already convicted me?”

“Brother,” Makoa says, and sees something in Crypto’s face shift at the sound. “Spent so long surviving, you forgot to live.”

It’s not a reason, not in the traditional sense. But it’s what Makoa feels, _sees_ in the other man. In nervous glances and the brick wall he’s built between them. 

He’s been persecuted for something— something Makoa doesn’t know anything about, though he can see its aftermath all the same. Like the skeletons of buildings after a terrible storm, haunting the ground they’re built on.

Crypto was haunted by something long before they’d ever met, and he’d never willingly add weight to that burden. _That_ is how Makoa knows.

“And,” Makoa adds, just to ease the tension, and gives the man’s shoulder a squeeze. “If it was you, you’re too smart to get caught, yeah?”

There’s a hint of a smile in the hard line of Crypto’s mouth. More importantly, he permits the touch. For what might be the first time, he trusts the hand of another man.

“C’mon,” Makoa anchors a hand at the base of his skull, urging him forward. Back inside, toward people he’s never had to convince of anything. “Gotta figure this thing out.”

But, long as Makoa draws breath, he won’t ever have to do it alone.

**Author's Note:**

> HMU on twt @gibraltane if you’d like me to write u a fic


End file.
